


Blue Steel

by angelicpanic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:08:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicpanic/pseuds/angelicpanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Season 8 finale. Dean tries to forget the drunken kiss he and Castiel shared last month. When he realizes Cas has disappeared in the middle of the night after a possible prescription drug overdose, he's forced to come to terms with his feelings for the ex-angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Steel

I. He woke up from the dream. The dream. The dream. He told himself it was a dream, a creepy, sick dream. Not a memory. He’d been ignoring it for the past month but it got harder everyday to do so. There was no point in trying to deny it happened anymore. It was dark. Late. He was drunk. Confused. It wasn't a big deal. He'd met plenty of girls who had their wild girl-on-girl college days.. why couldn't he? Dean had a million reasons why he should continue to forget and move on from the... he didn’t want to think it out loud. Dean rolled over in bed, disgusted with himself. Castiel was a good friend. Almost a brother. What kind of creep kisses his brother? Dean was pretty sure it didn't mean anything, anyway. Castiel was probably mad. Dean regretted the way he kissed him so brashly and uninvited. It was quick, but unmistakable. He cringed. _I can't believe I used Blue Steel._

II. It was Cas's first hunt as a human. Simple, really. Minor ghost in an abandoned train station, killing off the local kids dumb enough to poke around. Cas was nervous to fight without his angel powers, but Dean convinced him to come along. Sam was out of town visiting his lameass Harvard friends. "I can tell you two need some alone time together," he said with a smirk before he left. Bitch. So with Sammy out of town and Cas being the flight risk he was, Dean wasn't sure what to expect. However, it certainly wasn't Castiel saving his bacon, getting the spirit good with a few salt rounds after Dean tripped over his own freaking bootlace. They burned the bones, Dean giving Cas the honor of setting the dusty body alight. He couldn't hep but notice the way the flames danced in Castiel's sapphire eyes. He was trying to act normal about it, but privately was proud of Cas, on his first real-life adventure in re-ganking the undead. Castiel didn't even try hiding his excitement, recounting the story several times on the way back to the bunker. When they got back, Dean slid a beer across the table to him. "You've earned it," he grinned, taking a long pull from his own bottle.

III. However much he regretted practically forcing himself on Cas like the drunken asshole he was, he couldn't make him regret the kiss in itself, the feel of the stubble of his chin against his own, a feeling he never could forget. But was it worth Castiel's silent treatment? They never spoke of the kiss. They didn't talk about anything, really. Cas barely left his room until Sam got back. With his presence things got easier, passing messages through him to avoid actual contact. _"Tell Cas dinner's ready"..."Cas thinks he's got a breakthrough on Metatron, says not to disturb him for the next few days."_ Luckily Sam never questioned it, but Dean could tell he was getting suspicious. If Sam tried to Dr. Phil him one more time he was going to puke. He sat up in bed. He needed to man up and talk to Cas.

IV. Cas could not hold his liquor for shit, but wanted the beers to keep coming. Dean wasn't about to watch his friend drink solo and stayed up with him, listening as Cas told him long sloppy stories about his time in heaven. Dean exchanged his own exaggerated stories of hunts and hot girls. By the time they were out of beer it was 3am. "I'm dead drunk, man. I need to lay down before I black out." The room was spinning, but Cas looked even worse for wear. "Let me help you, Cas. I don't want you puking on the floor 'cause I'm sure as hell not cleaning it up." Castiel obliged as Dean lifted his arm over his shoulder, half-dragging him to his room, both laughing drunkenly all the way. "Hey Cas," Dean slurred. "Have you ever seen my Blue Steel?"

_"Have you ever seen my Blue Steel"_ was Dean's signature pick-up line from ages sixteen to twenty one. Never once did it fail him.

"I don't understand that reference, " Cas snorted. Dean pushed him against the wall. "They never do," he laughed, slipping his hand behind Castiel's head.

V. He should apologize. They couldn't go on like this forever, and Sam was eventually going to try and stage some kind of Lifetime-movie intervention, which Dean refused to take any part in. He had got himself into this mess, he was going to get himself out of it. Cas was probably still awake anyways. He'd been keeping strange hours since his transition to human. And it was better to do it now and get it out of the way. Maybe he had destroyed the best friendship he had ever had. But he had to know for sure. At this point he wouldn't blame Castiel if he decked him a good one. He shuffled down the hallway, pausing outside of Castiel's door. He took a deep breath. He was going to fix this. He nudged the door open, slowly following in. Taking in the spotless room, seeing no Castiel, he retreated until something caught his eye. A small vial, reflecting in the light of the hall. Dean knew he shouldn't snoop. But Dean was a snooper. Squinting in the dark, he read the label. His heart pounded. Castiel had been taking anxiety pills? Was it because of that damn kiss? He shook the bottle. It was empty. Holding it closer to his eyes he saw that Cas wasn’t up for a refill for another two weeks. Where the hell was Cas? Had he taken all the pills in that bottle? It was too late to do the mental math required to figure out just how much damage had been done.

VI. He searched the bunker for Cas. Sam was asleep on the couch, no point in asking him for help. He was 10 times bitchier when sleeping. He looked through the halls and rooms, with no sign of the gorgeou-- _stop it._ Dean needed to control himself, prepare for the letdown. No need in dragging out the torture with flowery girly thoughts. He shook the words out of his dead and kept looking. A sinking feeling set in his stomach. Cas wasn’t in the bunker. He’d checked everywhere. Twice. He exited his Batcave and entered the inky night, his pearly Colt in one hand and a flashlight in the other.

VII. The night was impassive and purple, mixing into the darkest shadows of the sky, it’s lightest corners illuminated by the full moon. White pinpricks of light scattered the sky like Dean’s freckles, echoing across the universe. It was nights like these that made Cas miss Heaven most. Maybe the rates were a little high, but the view was to die for. In the back of his mind, he vaguely wondered how he had got here, but decided it wasn’t a concern. He remembered knocking back maybe one or two pills more than he was supposed to. Maybe more. It was hard adjusting to the human life. It was hard feeling useless. It was hard not talking to Dean. He definitely remembered the kiss. Alcohol had quite a bit more effect on him now that he was human. Most of that night was a blur. But he remembered the kiss. It was nice, very nice. Something he’d like to do again. But Dean was ignoring him. Perhaps Dean regretted even taking him hunting that night. Castiel regretted nothing. He loved Dean, he was pretty sure of that. But all this thinking was beginning to bother his head. He laid his head back down atop the Impala, tracing his own constellations across the sky, singing a tuneless hymn to himself. He felt higher than he ever did in Heaven.

VIII. It was approaching 4am and Dean couldn't find Castiel anywhere. Cas was gone. Unarmed, human, gone. He had driven Cas to-- He couldn’t even finish his thoughts. Trailing down his cheek was a single tear. He was crying. He was crying over a boy. “Son of a bitch!” he screamed. “Son of a fucking bitch!” he yelled again, for emphasis. The night had no response. He kicked a rock down the road as hard as he could, his anger taking over him. This was his fault. _His. Fault._ Castiel was gone. Cas was gone. His own thoughts tortured him, scrabbling around in his head, punishing him further. He took a deep breath. Cas had to be out here somewhere. He headed to the camouflaged Impala, deciding that the headlights would give him a better advantage against the night.

IX. Castiel felt himself drifting into the night. He could no longer feel his wings, but he was flying. He was sure of it. He only wish was Dean was there to see it. Prove to him that he could still do things. That maybe he still needed him. Perhaps the reason Dean was no longer interested was that he was no longer an angel. The thought made Castiel very sad for a moment, but he was again distracted by the celestial show on display until a strange noise shook him out of his reverie. It was Dean, cursing and muttering under his breath, headed straight for him. “Dean!” he exclaimed cheerfully. His head snapped up. “Castiel!” Dean dropped his gun, crossing the distance between himself and the hood of the car where Castiel was sprawled. “Cas, buddy! Are you alright?” he asked roughly, turning Castiel’s head back and forth, checking for injury. “What the hell are you doing?” He laid in bliss, happy his wish for Dean’s presence had been granted. Looking up at him, he whispered, “I’m stargazing, Dean. Observing the universe in all her glory. You may join me, if you wish.” Dean rubbed his eyes, trying not the be angry with the angry with the angelic face below him. Castiel was obviously off his rocker with drugs, but he appeared to be okay. He fought the urge to push Castiel’s ass off his baby. The Impala was sturdy, he’d give her that. Could handle maybe one more body upon it’s hood. Dean laid himself carefully next to him, making sure not to come in any contact with the other man. He didn’t want to make Castiel uncomfortable, although he didn’t really seem to be paying attention at all, singing softly to himself. Castiel was the first to speak again. “Dean,” he began. “Are you feeling angry with me?” “Because you left the bunker in the middle night with no warning, leaving me to think you were dead? Of course not.” he said in a strangled voice. “No, not that. Are you angry because I’m not an angel anymore?” he asked. “Is that why you haven’t made any contact with me since we kissed? Because if that is so, Dean, I am sorry. I wish I could change for you.” Dean took in a sharp breath. “No, Cas. I’m not mad at you. I.. I thought you were angry with me. I crossed a boundary. And to think you’ve been taking these drugs because of it.. I can’t even--” He took in another calming breath. “I’m really sorry, Cas. I’m so, so sorry.” Castiel was starting to sober up a bit, but was still confused. “Dean I am not taking them because of you. It’s just to keep me calm. I’m having a bit of trouble adjusting to being human. Dean... if you are uncomfortable with your romantic actions, we can--” “No,” Dean said with finality. He looked over to Castiel, laying beside him. “I don’t regret anything.” He wasn’t sure who he was telling this to, himself or Castiel. But he knew it was the truth. Castiel slid his hand across the space between them on the Impala, clasping Dean’s in his own. They lay there in silence, watching as dawn crept up and ate away at the darkness. Cas rolled over to face Dean, and propped up on his elbow asked,

“Dean, would you like to see my version of the ‘Blue Steel’”?


End file.
